I love you simply
by ms bricolage
Summary: "That's why I love you and yet not why. There are so many reasons, and yet so few, for love has to be so, involving and general, particular and terrifying, joyful and grieving, flowering like the stars, and measureless as a kiss." ― Pablo Neruda / (A three-years later reveal fic, with some pining, some angsting, and a whole lot of bad guys. And possibly some love.)


**THE LADYBLOG**

 **Alya:** Welcome back fellow Parisians—and _bienvenue_ to those fans a little farther from home! I'm here today with our favorite Lady, looking for the latest scoop on the crime fighting business, and of course, on the woman behind the mask. LadyBug, would you like to jump right in, say a little to the viewers?

 **LadyBug:** Wow! [ _laughs_ ] Well, I'm honoured, as always, to be here. Such a lovely little café! And thanks to everyone who's been giving their support to me and Chat—oh, and to Alya, of course, who does all of this grunt work for very little reward.

 **A:** Oh now, don't start on that line again! Half of Paris is in envy of my working relationship with its Lady.

 **LB:** Well, if it's only _half_ —

 **A:** And of course, the other half is too busy effusing your praise to bother worrying over me.

[ _Aside: when LadyBug blushes, she's as crimson as her suit! And just as cute._ ]

 **LB:** It's to my benefit, honestly!

 **A:** Well, if you insist [ _laughter_ ].

Now, since you brought it up first, how _is_ our little black cat doing?

 **LB:** [ _waves hands in the_ air] Ah, well, he's been recovering. And sulking about that, of course. Chat wouldn't sit on the sidelines for even a moment if he could help it.

 **A:** I'll assume that _you're_ the reason he can't?

 **LB:** Absolutely. I'll have Paris know, if you see a lack of that tom cat for a few more days, it's for the best! And _completely_ out of his control—direct all your Chat Noir-related angst to me, please, as I'm the happy cause of it.

 **A:** I _can't_ imagine how that conversation went.

 **LB:** With a lot of respect

 **A:** Oh?

 **LB:** …and bribing.

 **A:** [ _laughing_ ]Any chance you could let us in on what bait is powerful enough to keep your favorite kitty from your side? I'm sure all of the city knows just how dedicated to each other the two of you are—I feel as if I'll forever be waiting on one of you to confirm that particular relationship status.

 **LB:** [ _blushing_ ] Uhm…I'm going to have to say 'no comment' for that one. For both of those ones.

 **A:** Foiled again!

 **LB:** A little bit of secrecy is good in the crime fighting business.

 **A:** You realize that, as a reporter, I'm honour-bound to disagree with you [ _LadyBug grins_ ].

With that said, we all want him to have a full recovery, so we will hold back our Chat Noir-angst for both of your sakes!

 **LB:** Thanks! And let's hope for another few peaceful days.

 **A:** So that there's nothing to tempt him outside?

 **LB:** _Exactement_!

 **A:** My, my, what a fine duo the two of you make—protective even _outside_ of the masks!

 **LB:** [ _strained smile_ ] Well yes, it's ah, something very important. [ _leaning forward, eyes intent_ ] And what is this I hear about you graduating this year?

 **A:** The tables are turning—you _are_ well connected. You must tell me your sources.

 **LB:** A good reporter never breaks a source's confidence—or so I've been told.

 **A:** Cheeky! But you're correct, it just so happens to be this lucky reporters final year of _lycée_!

 **LB:** Off to do bigger and better things?

 **A:** Better things then keep up with the city's favorite crime stopping force? Absolutely not! Which leads me to another question—LadyBug, even though you are quite firm on your policy of keeping your personal life a secret, something that definitely keeps all of us investigators on our toes, would you put at least one poor girl out of her misery?

 **LB:** [ _laughs_ ] I can certainly try.

 **A:** Will you be staying in Paris for the foreseeable future? Or are there perhaps…bigger and better things out there for a LadyBug and her charming cat?

 **LB:** Well, I would hardly call Chat mine—his ego gets too big [ _laughs_ ]. Ah, I'm kidding. It's as you've said—bigger and better things than protecting Paris? Impossible. I'll stay and defend my city for as long as I live. After all, I love it here! What is there not to love about Paris!

[ _A serious look comes over her face abruptly and she turns to face the camera_ ]

Paris is my home, and it's where a lot of the people I love call home. So, for anyone wondering, I will _always_ be here to keep it safe for them, you have my word.

 **A:** [ _Extended pause_ ] …Well, I'm sure I speak for all of Paris when I say we're _truly_ grateful for such a defender [ _clears throat_ ]. Ah yes, you've heard it folks! LadyBug is here to stay!

[ **click link to watch the full video inte** **rview** ]— watch?v=AX_QfNI150Y

* * *

 _White lights, rushing, rushing, they're approaching and she's_ stuck _, the man is on top of the train, he's_ on top of it _, how could she have missed that, there's only so much technology in the underground, he's on top of the train and the lights are racing towards her—_

— _someone's calling out, it's not her name but it_ is _, they're yelling, the train is getting closer—_

— _her foot won't come loose, there's metal twisted around it, the akumas are getting stronger and she can't figure out what the Lucky Charm_ is _, the train horn blares and there are people on the metro, so many people, she can't just destroy the train—_

— _hands on her shoulders—_

— _claws digging against her side—_

— _a roar—_

—" _Get out of the way!" —_

— _the track lets go of her foot, grabs onto something else, some_ one _else, only she doesn't notice, she can't tell because the claws are tightening, getting tighter as they_ push _, she's flying—_

— _a scream; her scream, she's screaming—_

—" _Wake up!" —_

— _so much blood—_

—" _Wake_ up _! Chat, wake"—_

"Marinette, wake up!"

She's on the platform—no, she's on the floor. Her mouth feels like someone swabbed it with cotton balls it's so dry, and she's on her bedroom floor, not the platform.

"Your alarm has been going off for a half hour honey. You're going to be late." The shadow looming over her says—the intruder, which she uses every ounce of control she has not to give into instinct and round on.

She blinks instead, muddled mind processing everything a few beats slow. "Mornin' mom."

"Good morning sweetheart." Her mother smiles, syrupy sweet. They both ignore the fact that Marinette's face is mashed into the hardwood—though there's a deeper reality than that, there's the one where at some point in the night she must have jostled herself out of bed and no one heard the loud _thud_ as she struggled to catch her breath.

Of course, the nicer reality is that Marinette is just a big klutz, and her mother loves her despite in. The nicer reality is the only one she _likes_ , and it's the reality that she's going to face this morning. Her head is spinning too much for anything more.

"Your father hasn't eaten all of breakfast quite yet, so if you hurry you could probably snatch some and still make it to class on time." Her mother adds, giving Marinette a look before heading for the stairs.

Marinette sighs. "Thanks mom."

She listens to the sound of her footsteps as she trots downstairs, the faint murmurs that drift up from the kitchen. Paul must be opening the store this morning, which means that she's out of any reasonable excuses to skip class…which is _fine_ , totally fine, because she's absolutely got to go in anyway, there are class duties to finishes, some big news Alya has to tell her—five missed calls suggest something big, anyway, and of course, there's no world in which she gets away with skipping class twice in one week.

Though…it's been a long week.

Tikki floats up from wherever she'd been sleeping, wide eyed and alert. Marinette kind of hates her for that, though she's blissfully too bewildered still to say anything.

"Marinette?"

She shuffles onto her back so that she can look up at the kwami. "Hmm?"

"Are you going to get off the floor anytime soon?"

"Oh!" She jolts up, leaping to her feet despite the head rush. "Yup, of course, the—we've got the. School. I'm going to school."

Tikki giggles. "You've got ten minutes before you'll be late!"

"Okay," she says weakly, "challenge accepted."

It's nearly summer in Paris, which means Marinette gets to wear cute, frilly tops thanks to the occasional heat wave that drenched the city—and of course, it also means one very ruffled, frizzy best friend. By the time Marinette meets up with Alya in front of their lockers the poor girl is down to a tank top and three empty water bottles, immediately launching into a barrage of cheerful complaints once she spots Marinette.

Of course, Alya's her best friend, closest confident when she's not wearing a mask, so it takes all of ten minutes before she turns her weather-induced agitation on her.

"Alright, c'mon. What is up with you?"

Marinette glances up. Class starts in another few minutes and she'd been trying to remember which course came first. This is the problem with textbooks, she thinks. You can't just bring all of them to class because you forgot which teacher was up first—well, technically you _could_ , of course then you'd be carrying a lot of extra weight and you'd be exhausted by lunch time…although her arms would get a good workout, and then she could finally have the time to stretch her muscles in her civilian life. It wasn't a _bad_ idea, now that she thought about it, although it'd get her a couple of second glances.

"Huh?" She mutters distractedly.

"You've been weird all week," Alya accuses, narrowing her eyes and leaning towards her. "And you didn't even react when I said I was moving to Russia."

Her stomach drops. "You're moving _where_?"

Alya holds up her hands. Marinette feels her head spinning again; if this keeps up she's just going home, parental wrath be damned.

"Woah girl, chill. I was joking. Seriously, are you okay?"

She feels her lip tremble. "Alya, you can't _move_ away!"

Alya catches her by the shoulder. Marinette is…well, drooping. She _feels_ herself drooping. She's a droopy, pathetic excuse for a teenager. She's a droopy, pathetic teenager whose friend is threatening to _leave_ , and Marinette can't take any of her friends leaving right now, _it's really not nice_ —

"Sugar," Alya says, unwittingly interrupting Marinette's mental acrobatics, "I'm _not_. I was going to—look, not important. I'm staying in Paris, you're accepting that scholarship to IFA, and we'll practically be roommates. Only you've got some sweet digs and I've got a dorm room. Now spill."

"Spill what?"

"What's got you so down?"

Science. It's definitely science this afternoon. Marinette turns to her locker and makes a bid for her textbook. "Uhm," she stammers, "It's just…"

Alya makes a soothing noise. "Is it graduation? The decals on the class' cap and gown sets _was_ a bit much, although how do you say no as class president, and when all our friends go _oh Marinette, you're so talented_ —I mean you are, so it's half your fault—"

"Nooo," she says slowly, "It's not that exactly…"

"Adrien then?" Alya raises an eyebrow. "I know you've said that you've sworn that whole thing off, even though we've both acknowledged that you're being ridiculous and you still get bummed when his gigs get extended."

"Alyaaaa," Marinette whines, trying not to wince and failing.

Alya just leans in even more and stares Marinette down. It's _really_ effective. Next time she's going on a patrol she's just going to bring Alya and her fact-acquiring stares and then all the people even thinking of giving in to an akuma will have to go home for the evening to revaluate their life choices.

Actually, on second thought, Marinette doesn't want _anyone_ out on patrols with her anymore.

Her shoulders slump. "I don't know, it's just…everything? Everything's changing. And I had a bad—well, weird dream last night."

"Again?"

"I'm just tired." She admits, and continues to droop. The droop is effective. Everyone has to let her be with the drooping and the slumping and the heavy, sad science textbook in her hands.

Alya lays a hand on her shoulder. "You know what would cheer you up? A little pre-grad celebration. How about we get the gang together, hang out this weekend?"

Marinette laughs. "That sounds great. As long as it's Sunday."

"Anything for you! Now, do you want to hear my amazing news about my morning interview with LadyBug, or my amazing news about my latest job offer?"

* * *

Her first class is definitely _not_ science. Once Nino and Alya start laughing at her, Marinette knows the day is a lost cause. They never _stop,_ the two of them continuously bouncing off each other's giggling faces, and rather than be pulled into yet _another_ lecture from the teacher on proper classroom decorum, Marinettepulls out her sketch book and studiously pretends that she's doodling something history-related.

Since there's been LadyBug's around for 5000 years, she's not _technically_ lying to anyone…and besides, a spotted onesie sounds like just the thing she needs to make her Friday productive.

If she designs a second one, fully black and outfitted with little ears at the top, well then, it's no one's business but hers. Besides, it's not like she'll _make_ the things.

* * *

"Why do you only give your exclusives to Alya?"

She stops shifting around, giving up on finding a more comfortable spot, at least for the moment. It's not until Chat jars her shoulder with the edge of his baton that she looks up. "Pardon?"

"Alya? The LadyBlog? There's another exclusive up there."

She frowns. "I thought I'd bribed the nurses to only give your laptop in the mornings."

"Well yes," Chat sniffs, "While your pastries _are_ powerful, the fact that I'm bribing half the staff to keep quiet about my stay here means I have bribe veto."

"Bribe veto? Is that even a thing?"

He purrs. "My Lady, if you're having trouble seeing the laptop I have, when it's clearly well past noon, then you could always come hop up here on the bed and have a closer look—"

The fluffy side of her pen hits him firmly on the side of his arm closest to LadyBug, effectively cutting him off. Chat glares—it's fond, of course, and Lady feels herself grinning in response. She doesn't point out that the hospital beds are too small for the two of them to lay on without cuddling up. She's fairly certain that's _exactly_ what the silly cat wants.

She twists in her chair again, hoping for either a more comfortable way to curl up on these awful plastic instruments of torture, or even just for the answer to her chemistry homework to become clearer as her discomfort increases. Neither of these things however are seeming likely to happen—an awful truth, honestly—although she's finally come to terms with the likelihood of failing her next unit exam.

"Lady?"

"Mhmm?"

"It's no use."

She gnaws on the tip of her pen, _electron, protons, reduction_ … _why not just ask me to bake a cake instead?_ "What's no use?"

"I've already watched the full interview."

Her grip on the textbook weakens, nearly revealing the cover to Chat. She blinks.

"Alya only uploaded it this afternoon!" She knows that because she'd _watched her do it_. The benefit to Alya conducting the majority of her interviews—a necessary evil, as they'd gotten older—was that she got to be around during their edits.

"I have my notifications on. Staying here is _boring_ , especially since the staff can't visit all the time."

It was the only way to have Chat Noir in a hospital, without having his secret identity plastered all the way across Paris as a consequence. The hospital staff had been exceptionally nice, particularly with the extra lump sum of funds being deposited into their bank accounts this Sunday. Honestly, she'd been all for having him stay in his home and hiring an at home attendant—something which was apparently possible given that in the real world Chat was some sort of _wealthy_ teenager _—_ to make sure none of his _highly dangerous_ injuries become even _more_ dangerous, but Chat had insisted on some added incentive to stay in bed. Namely, his Lady.

After everything, she really didn't mind…only, she couldn't exactly visit his home without having yet another clue to who the kitty cat was. And if the latest attack had taught her anything, it was that she had to be firm with this—after all, secrecy meant safety.

So—hospital. At least until the end of the week.

"Why not read a book?"

"I read a blog. It's kind of the same thing?"

 _No it isn't_ , she thinks mutinously, _a book isn't about current events. A_ book _wouldn't have people commenting on your recent disappearance from the city._

"It's not that I don't want you reading the interviews," though, three years into their partnership and she still felt it was a little odd that he kept up his subscriptions to her fan sites, "It's just…embarrassing? Why read about it when you could just ask me?"

Chat lets out a small noise, like he's considered this option and found it wanting.

"What?"

"It's just," he shrugs, "You give all your exclusives to Alya, meet up with her at these little cafes in full disguise—while already _in_ a disguise. And you tell her things about me."

She stares openly. A light dusting of red spreads across the tops of Chat's cheeks, his eyes studiously _not_ on hers. She can't help it—she laughs.

"Kitty cat, are you pouting?"

He frowns. "No."

"There's no need."

"I'm _not_. I just—you like her."

She blinks. "Alya?"

" _Yes._ " He says forcefully.

"Oh." She cants her head at him, carefully folding shut her chemistry textbook, coverside down. "Of course I like Alya. Alya's a very likeable person."

He settles further into his bed—it's tilted up, so he can't flop over dramatically anymore, as he had the first few days LadyBug had forced him to take time off in order to heal up properly. Still, Chat makes it work for him, crossing his arms over, black-clad claws tapping impatiently at his side.

For some reason, for such a confident feline, he was terribly easy to ruffle.

"Chat." He ignores her. " _Chat_."

"Hmm?"

" _You're_ a very likeable person."

The flush comes back. He's still not meeting her eyes.

"Oh?"

She nods sagely. "It's true."

"Right." The corners of his lips tug up. "I'm a likeable person."

"Mhmm," she clamps down a giggle, "I wouldn't threaten just _anyone_ to stay on their mandatory bed rest."

"Right, you wouldn't threaten—hey, this isn't your way of trying to get me to stay the extra week, is it?"

She widens her eyes. " _Never_."

He narrows her eyes at her, then leans across the small space between the edge of his bed and the chair she'd pulled up. His claw taps lightly against her nose, her eyes crossing as she tries to follow it.

"LadyBug, you are purrfectly nefarious." He accuses, not moving back.

Her smile is weak. "Kitty cat, you're bugging out. There's no ulterior motive here."

It's worth it, for the way he dissolves into giggles—especially since it gets him to lean back, and lets the Marinette side of her cool her head. Chat doesn't _giggle_ very often, he's more of a…chuckler. A snicker and wink…-er. Usually he's too suave to let himself look like the kid he is, even though it makes him come off sort of childish. Chat losing _his_ cool helps LadyBug keep _hers_.

She watches him laugh for a moment, the way his shoulders shake and how he keeps his bottom lip tucked under his teeth every so often, trying not to be so loud. True to his word he's stayed nearly a full week in the hospital, only assuming his costume when the nurses come to check on him, or when she comes to visit. It's funny, but she'd always known he would, and it had let her relax the last few days, content that he was somewhere safe. Chat, contrary to how he appears, never lies—not to her.

Her most trusted partner.

She shoots to her feet—a little too quickly, by the way Chat quiets. Studiously ignoring any looks he might be sending her way, she starts shoving her books back into her bag. The niggling warnings in her head that always sound suspiciously like her mother are entirely absent, chased away by something stronger, something she bows to as she clambers up into the bed with him, careful to maintain the sliver of space that the single will allow. Any undue jostling could hurt his newly healed ribs.

"Lady…?" His voice is choked, and even though she's not looking at his face she just _knows_ he's too dazed for words. It's not _weird_ , because they're friends and because she's relaxed her personal barriers over the years, but it's—

Well, she's not thinking about it.

"Just—hold tight for a second." She stretches her toes down, until they brush against his. It's impossible not to tangle their limbs together, just a little bit, her knees slotted next his shins, her elbow laying slightly under his chest, her other arm resting lightly on top of it. She's shorter than him—particular now that they're older, his growth spurt continuing while hers remained woefully stagnant. It means, that as her feet curl on top of the covers, knees bent and coming to rest just short of his own, her head barely rests on his shoulder.

It means that she doesn't have to meet his eyes as she settles against his side, listening carefully to each hitched breath.

They stay still like that for a moment—Chat's breathing slowly evening out, giving her what she wanted all along. _Three years_ , she thinks. _It's a long time to know someone._

"Chat?"

"Y-yes?"

"I'm really glad you're feeling better."

He makes a noise of agreement, from somewhere deep in his throat. His free hand—the one she doesn't have pinned by her shoulder—comes up to his chest to rest on hers. His breaths are deep and even.

"Of course I am. I have nine lives after all." He jokes, gentle as ever, his hand tightening over hers briefly before slipping away. Not pushing.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"…Chat?"

She can hear the smile in his voice. "Yes?"

"This is a disciplinary hug. You aren't allowed to enjoy it."

"Okay."

"Alya vetoed the water bottle idea."

She feels him moving again—laughing, she realizes. "No," he says, "That week where you wore it on every patrol was probably enough."

"Mm. I don't agree, but since your yowling would probably draw the nurses…"

"I don't _yowl_."

She hides her grin in his shoulder. "I have video proof that says otherwise."

Chat doesn't respond, and since she's decided to ignore that fact that she's all but plastered herself up against a boy she's told herself she can't get any more attached to, she doesn't push it.

"Was… _this_ also Alya's idea?" He eventually asks.

She chances a look up—his grin is smug, though there's a certain tenseness around his mouth that has her sliding her gaze past it. She considers nipping at his ear, since she'd read that alphas assert themselves that way, but it's bad enough that she's willing to nap on top of him. Besides, Chat's not _really_ a cat…well, probably.

"Maybe." She admits. "She said you'd get a kick over it."

"Oh, I definitely do."

"Hush. Now, be a good kitty and tell me everything you know about oxidation and reduction."

* * *

The beep on her earrings tell her when it's time to leave, and LadyBug leaps out the window, ducks behind a corner, and becomes Marinette. It's late—when they don't use their charms the transformations last quite a while, especially as the years go by and they both become stronger—but she's not too concerned. When you're the person who confronts the bad guys on a regular basis, walking around in the dark of Paris becomes seductive rather than scary.

Tikki sighs from deep in her bag, tuckered out. Marinette digs into her pockets until she comes up with one of the candies she'd swiped from the bakery, and passes it to her satchel.

"Oh, thanks Marinette!" Tikki chirps.

Marinette swings the bag to her front, keeping down any undue manhandling. "No, thank you Tikki. I appreciate being able to do this every day."

"It was very nice of you to offer it to Chat. He seems pleased."

Her lips turn down. "He deserves it."

There's a long pause, and then Tikki floats up, keeping pace with Marinette's trot down the main street.

"I know you've said you're fine doing the patrols on your own for a while but…you know that you don't have to do these alone, right?"

Marinette smiles down at the kwami. "I know. I have you with me."

Tikki sags. "That's not what I meant. Chat is your friend! He's here for you—that is why you have an important partner!"

Marinette doesn't reply, focusing on the winding roads taking her back to the bakery. She's only at home for another few weeks, then she'll move early into her rooms near college—eager to become an adult, eager to not have to excuse herself for her weird hours. Eager to…keep her close ones safe, just in case.

It isn't until they round on her street that she asks, "Tikki…other LadyBugs, they've managed without partners. Without a…Chat Noir?"

Tikki, back in her bag, pops her head up. "Well, technically yes, but—"

"Then, don't you think," she stares ahead, resolute, feeling her resolve weaken a little with each step, "Well, I should be able to do at least this much for him, right?"

"Well…It's not something that you have to do though. Only you decide what you should do…"

"But?"

Tikki pauses. "But I don't think it's what Chat would want."

 _That's just the problem, isn't it?_

"You're right." She says, voice raspy. "I'm just anxious I guess."

Before Tikki can say anything else Marinette spots the bakery doors. It's only just closing now, open later in the summer months, so it's her mother's worried smile that greets her as she jogs up to the front doors.

"Honey, you're home."

She catches the furrow in her mother's brow. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Her mom sighs. "You know normally we wouldn't worry, since you're such a responsible girl…but after that attack on the superheroes, it just seems a little bit more dangerous out there doesn't it?"

"I know."

"Even they get hurt, hey? I can't believe that poor boy got hit by a train—"

Marinette rushes past her. "I'll just—I'm off to bed, okay?"

"Oh! Marinette—of course. Have a good sleep."

"Night Mom." She pauses on the top step. "I love you."

* * *

 _A train. Two clawed hands wrapping around her shoulders and shoving her onto the platform. The horn of the train as it barrels into him._

 _Their transformed bodies can take a lot of heat…but they can't withstand_ everything _. There's a scream and a screeching sound, and then terrifying silence. LadyBug is on the platform and the villain is on the train, and Chat, he's, he's—_

 _He's on the ground. And there's blood—there's so much blood._


End file.
